First, of course, let’s get the updates and sadnesses out of the way, then we’ll move to adorable. The nighthawk has been using her wing fairly normally in a confined space, so this week will be the big test as I move her into the flight pen and keep my fingers crossed that she can fly normally. It’s not too late for her to make migration if she can just fly! The egret I was pretty sure wasn’t gonna make it last Sunday did in fact die that night…or, more precisely, in the wee hours Monday morning. I have to admit, I was disappointed. By lights-out he was standing and alert; at 1AM he was still alive…but by 6:30 he had died. Since he was keeping his food down and even starting to resist being fed, I really feel like it was the hundreds of fire ant bites covering his thin little body that did him in. When the call came in this week about a red tail with a “dangling” leg, I shuddered, figuring this was not going to end well. Upon seeing the bird, a first-year male, and examining his limp leg, I knew I was right.

Vet Peggy Hobby of Smalley’s Animal Hospital, who has to be tired of seeing me walk in with yet another unfixable bird, agreed. The fracture—or fractures, as the bone was pretty much shattered—was just below the joint.

In case you’ve ever wondered what it looks like from my viewpoint when I’m holding a raptor, here’s a shot that pretty well shows it.

And, of course, we did have to euthanize this poor fellow.

But not all was gloom and doom at LWR last week, thank goodness! Early in the week, I received a call from a fellow rehabber in extreme South Georgia who’s not currently doing anything but deer. She’d gotten a call from a fellow whose dog had attacked a female flying squirrel who had babies. He’d taken the mama from his dog’s mouth and rescued the babies—apparently the entire nest cavity had fallen (flyers are cavity nesters). After making sure I was taking flyers, she gave me his contact info, and I immediately called him. Turned out his license had been suspended and he had no way to get the flyers to me. After two hours of calls on his part and mine, I was able to locate a contact who had a volunteer (thanks, Barbara and Heidi!) who lived in the area and was willing to meet me halfway with the mama and babies. So at 10:45 at night, she and I met for me to pick up the flyers. I knew immediately that Mama Flyer was done for. Dog jaws are designed to crush, and her entire back end was crushed and dangling limply. My best option was to remove the babies from her box as soon as I got them home, as I didn’t want them attempting to nurse a dead mother during the night. The guy had said he’d seen the babies trying to nurse but based on their behavior, I didn’t think they’d been getting much, and it had been over five hours since we started this mini-drama. They needed food.

But first, the fleas that Mama Flyer carried that she normally would have groomed off her babies were migrating from her dying body to those of her babies. Baby Flyers needed flea baths immediately—which was also a good time for exams to see if any of them were injured and to check genders. All four were male—what are the odds of that?—and only one had a small puncture wound in his inside right thigh. Once they were dried and the wounded fellow was medicated, we started formula.

Mama Flyer did indeed check out overnight, but all four babies are doing well. The last set of “big little” liquid brown eyes opened last night, so they’re about five weeks old—still at the “eat and pass out” age. That will be changing over the next few weeks, as they begin experimenting with solid foods and become more active at night.

Flying squirrels are nocturnal, meaning that they’re active at night. They don’t chatter like their diurnal cousins the gray squirrels do; their little voices sound like birds chirping at night. There hasn’t been nearly the research done on flyers that there has on grays, but the best estimates are that their populations are at least as numerous as, maybe more so than, than grays.

However, they’re not usually seen in large numbers in rehab settings, which is probably why rehabbers turn into squeeing mounds of mush when they have the opportunity to work with the sweet little rascals. The personality difference between flyers and grays is, no pun intended, night and day. Of course, the biggest physical differences, aside from size (flyers are quite small, with adults measuring 6-8 inches from nose to tail), are the skin flaps, the patagium, that stretch from each front leg to each back leg, giving flyers their unique gliding ability, and their flat, feathery tails that serve as rudders when they’re gliding. Over the next few weeks, I’ll work diligently to provide a really good photo of the patagium on one of these little darlings; gliding vids, if they happen at all, are quite a way off just yet!

Yeah, that’s pretty much the only way to describe the past week. Every new intake died or was euthanized. And today we got in a juvie cattle egret who’s not looking good… Our first DOA of the week was a nestling mourning dove from Laurens County who didn’t show any signs of injury, was fairly well-fleshed, but something was …off. It’s sort of a sixth sense rehabbers develop—we can’t find the problem, but we know one’s there. My vets at Smalley’s Animal Hospital coined a term for this that I’ve adopted: “ain’t doin’ right”, or ADR. This little mourning dove was ADR but I held out hope that maybe I was being paranoid and she’d be okay. Because her finder was worried that possibly neighborhood free-roaming cats had mauled the dove, I started her on antibiotics as a precautionary measure. She died during the night.

Next was an adult brown thrasher from Toombs County who was in all likelihood attacked by the finder’s outdoor cat. She saw the cat near the bird, who was thrashing about in the dirt. His leg was broken, either at the hip or in the femur. I also started him on antibiotics and made him as comfortable as possible until I could get him in for x-rays the next morning (he came in at 7:30 at night). He also died during the night, suggesting internal injuries from the cat attack, although the only external injury was the broken leg.

When this first-year female red tailed hawk came in from Washington County, I had high hopes. She was extremely emaciated but alert. Her only injuries were a broken “eyebrow” and a small metatarsal (foot) fracture. These were fixable, and even more cause for celebration, she would eat without being force-fed! Unfortunately, she began throwing up after every meal, so none of the needed nutrition was staying in her. I utilized a trick taught to me by another rehabber to end the vomiting—which I won’t elaborate on here, but any rehabbers reading this are welcome to contact me privately for details—a trick that has worked almost miraculously in the past. Not with this lady. Then the poop started…not diarrhea, but color and consistency indicating internal bleeding…she died within hours…

The same day, this first-year male red tail came in from Bibb County with wing and leg fractures. I knew the wing fracture was fixable, even without an x-ray. The leg, though…the leg was in bad shape. THAT was gonna be the fate-sealer. And so it was. The next morning at Smalley’s, vet Peggy Hobby agreed that the severity of the leg fracture and displacement of the bones was a death sentence. We euthanized.

And today, after an all-night and into-the-morning rainstorm, I found this juvenile cattle egret slumping at the edge of the hay field, sopping wet and covered with fire ants. We’d seen him around for a few days, eating at the far edge of the hay field, and I even started over to check on him once, but he flew away. As long as a bird is eating and flying, you don’t intervene. I worried, though, because all the other cattle egrets have migrated. He was on his own—quite literally. This morning, near daybreak, I saw him flying in a light drizzle. Four hours later, he was down, drenched and ant-covered. I don’t know what happened in those four hours. I do know he’s very, very thin and weak, and he’s covered with fire ant bites, even his poor little eyes. I can’t think of a worse way to die than being bitten to death by fire ants. Whether this poor fellow will make it or not is still uncertain. Rationally speaking, his chances aren’t good. From an emotional standpoint, though, I really, really want him to pull through. That said, to be honest, if we were placing bets on his survival, my money would be on death by the end of the day—if that long. I sincerely hope I’m wrong. Nothing would please me more than to be able to report to you next week that he’s doing well. Don’t hold your breath, though. He’s in bad shape…

Rather than end with gloom and doom, let me report that the nighthawk is doing well. Look at the improvement from last week in the flesh wound on her wing! I’ll be unwrapping that wing so she can test it in another few days, and I’m hopeful she’ll be able to use it. I leave you with a nice head shot and a lovely video clip of her “rasping”, which is the correct term for the “growling” noises they make.

Yep, been a sloooow week: the red shouldered hawk was sent back to his territory to be released, and the only intake was a young common nighthawk with a broken “hand.” Sooo…you get a (sort of) in-depth look at just one species! (Hey, I’m not doing a whole life history here, though—just an outline, the Cliff Notes version, if you will!)

Nighthawks are in the nightjar or goatsucker family, the same family as chuck-will’s-widows and whippoorwills —you know, those nocturnal birds with the tee-ninesy little beaks that open to great gaping maws. All are exclusively insectivores, meaning they don’t eat berries, etc. It’s insects or nothing for these birds. Despite their name, however, nighthawks are actually most active at dawn and dusk, more so than at night. The reason for their great gaping maws is that they eat on the wing, scooping insects up with that mouth while they fly. And, as you can see below, their tongues are almost vestigial, because when you’re effectively vacuuming your food from the air straight down your esophagus, there’s not much need for a well-developed tongue.

They have short, stubby little legs, and their middle toe on each foot has a comb-like bit of stiff-ish material that apparently aids in grooming.

These sweet little birds, app. 8-10 inches long, breed throughout the US and Canada during the summer and winter throughout South America. That means this little darlin’ should be on her way to her winter grounds, but she has a wing fracture that will delay and possibly prevent her migration. While these photos look really nasty, they were taken the night she came in, shortly after I rinsed, cleaned and medicated the flesh wound right at her wrist. The flesh wound is healing nicely now. The actual fracture is in the metacarpals, the small bones past the wrist, same as the bones in our hands between the wrist and fingers. Sometimes these fractures heal to allow flight; sometimes they don’t. We won’t know in her case for a month or so.

How do I know she’s female? The males have a white bar on their tails. Both sexes have the white wing bars. The lack of a white throat band identifies this little lady as a youngster, probably from a late clutch—nighthawks don’t build nests; the females just lay and incubate the eggs on a level surface. Because they eat on the wing, they’re not real fun to feed in rehab settings. Rehabbers report varying degrees of success in working with nighthawks. No rehabber I’ve contacted has ever been able to get them to self-feed at all, although one or two have reported that their birds did at least come to them for food after some time. This little girl hasn’t reached that phase yet; she has started mostly sitting still for me to pick her up (unlike in the video below), but then I have to pry that little beak open and syringe feed her a special brew containing all sorts of yummy things, including dried insects, to replace the insects she can’t vacuum up with that open mouth in mid-flight. Sounds delish, no? (Hey, it beats cutting up rodents, which is my least-favorite part of rehabbing raptors.)

Right now, this little nighthawk is doing quite well; we’ll see how things play out long-term and hope for the best—the “best” best being that her wing heals and she regains full flight capability in time to make the tail-end of migration. Second-best would be her wing heals to allow full flight but she has to overwinter, but we’re aiming at the ideal scenario!

We rehabbers are a supportive bunch, as a rule. Often other rehabbers need assistance with funding; as rehabbers ourselves, our funds are limited, but we share their posts and pleas for assistance in hopes that some of our readers can help them. I’m doing that today. My fellow rehabber Steve Hicks of Bubba & Friends Raptor Rehab is facing a severe funding crisis. As in, he’s out of funds, out of frozen rodents for his current rehabs, and is having to make difficult decisions as to who lives and who dies and who can be released earlier than he’d planned. Below is a photo of a few of his guests, GHOs in various states of development, from earlier this year.

Several of the raptors under his care came from LWR, as we don’t yet have a raptor flight pen—a situation we will be rectifying over the next few months, thanks to your generosity. In the meantime, please donate what you can to aid Bubba & Friends continue its vital work. Checks may be mailed to: Bubba and Friends, Inc. PO Box 103 Zebulon, GA 30295 Here at LWR, it was another slow week; since I’m focusing primarily on feathers this year, I’m not taking any gray squirrels at the moment, which is why it’s slow for me. Other rehabbers taking grays are reporting massive numbers (but those rehabbers also don’t do birds, so they had a bit of a break when I was up to my eyeballs in feathers!).

This barred owl is a prime example of human-caused harm to wildlife. He was found by the side of the road, right wing and leg both broken, after being hit by a car. Folks, this ain’t nature taking its course. It’s humans having their usual detrimental effects on nature. And no, obviously, there was nothing to be done but euthanize, but a humane death is better than being stung to death by fire ants or eaten alive by maggots.

For those of you who have never seen an owl’s ear, wait no longer. Below are a couple of shots of the barred owl’s ear. It dawned on me after his euthanasia that I’d never posted photos of owl ears, for some reason, and they’re pretty darned interesting to see! The second photo isn’t as clear, but you can gauge the size of that ear by my fingertips on either side of it. Now you know why owls have such amazing hearing!

Sometimes, birds come in with no apparent injuries, as was the case with this runt male red shouldered hawk. The folks who found him saw him attempt to fly away and slide down a tree instead. To be on the safe side, as he was a bit thin, we treated for frounce and he’s spent a week at the LWR bed and breakfast, putting some weight back on his skinny frame. He’s almost good to go and I’ll be calling his rescuers this week to arrange for his release back in his home territory.

And with the fall slowdown comes a decrease in LWR updates, as the critters aren’t coming in in sufficient numbers to justify weekly updates. Starting this week, we’ll drop to twice monthly, so your next update will be on Sept. 15; that is, unless you’d like long-winded, mostly photo-less (and video-less) treatises on whatever aspect of wildlife rehab strikes my fancy that particular week. (If that notion appeals to ya, drop a line in the comments and I’ll consider it!) While there were numerous calls this week, some I was able to talk through reuniting mama and baby, and some would have resulted in intakes except that the injured adult birds died en route. The wood stork from last week was euthanized; his injuries were too severe to be fixed. None of my releases are coming down consistently for handouts now, although the blue jay does tend to show up more often than anyone else: I see him almost daily. He’s also going through a molt at the moment, so he’s a scruffy-looking rascal right now. Igor the crow has flown the coop for good; there’s been no sign of him since early last week, when the crows who’d started hanging around the yard and calling to him coaxed him into leaving with them. Don’t see them around now, either, although I’m still hearing them in the distance. Crows are very clannish, but I’ve been lucky in that about two-thirds of the crows I’ve released have been adopted into the local group. Maybe a plentiful food supply makes a difference. And yes, before anyone asks, I miss Igor, but that’s the nature of wildlife rehab. The goal upon Igor’s intake—as with each intake—was to release a bird capable of surviving on his own in the wild. Igor is now with the local “murder” of crows, so he’ll have their companionship and support as he continues to thrive in his natural environment. Mission accomplished!

Unfortunately, this young Cooper’s hawk wasn’t as lucky. He came in last Monday and died as I was examining him—right in front of the people who brought him. I had taken him out of the box as they filled out the intake form, and his head lolled weakly to the side—not a good sign. I felt his keel, which was razor-sharp, and explained to them that he was very weak from starvation, but before I could even get fluids to start him on, he had a small seizure in my hands and died. The photos below are so you can see the feather patterns and recognize a juvie Coop the next time you see one—note the long tail feathers; the shot of his keel is to show you what a starving bird’s breastbone looks like. This poor bird had no “meat” covering his breastbone. He’d been without food for a very long time.

And the final shots for the week are of this lovely female Northern, or bob-white, quail who was in my driveway last week. “Bob-whites”, which are ground-nesting birds, were fairly plentiful but on the decline when I was growing up; thanks to habitat destruction, over-hunting, native predators like snakes and coons, and the introduction of non-native predators like coyotes and feral cats, they’re now on the near-threatened list. There’s been a concerted effort by DNR, farmers and hunters in Georgia to increase their numbers, and it seems to be paying off. We’re hearing—and seeing—them more often now, at least in my neck of the woods.

With any luck, if the weather cooperates, I’ll be posting progress photos as we begin work on the flight pens later this month. Given that this time of year I tend to see more raptors than songbirds in rehab, the raptor flight will more than likely take priority.